


Crossroads

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Hot Elf On Half-Elf Action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-16 14:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: After a dangerous dungeon crawl, it's important to find ways to blow off steam. Too bad Thryl hasno cluewhat he's doing.





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just an excuse to write D&D porn. Characters belong to our current home campaign. Hope you enjoy!

The noise and bustle of the busy tavern rang in Thryl’s overlarge ears despite the hood tugged up to hide them. Laughter and conversation buzzed from every corner of the room, the halfling proprietors darting from table to table, trays of ale making their way around at hip height for the majority of patrons.

“Seems like we’re not the only group in good fortune here tonight,” said a warm voice at Thryl’s side. He peeked out from the folds of his cloak to see Chary’s dark eyes levelled on him, gleaming slightly in the low light of the candle that was steadily dripping fat blobs of wax onto their table.

Thryl knocked back the last of his ale, smiling when Chary’s hand immediately raised to signal the bartender for another round. “You say group. We’re the only ones still awake.” 

“Narrowly escaping death tires some people,” Chary’s lips twitched up in a sly grin, “I can’t imagine why.”

Thryl nodded, smiling briefly at the halfling woman who appeared by the table with their drinks and sliding a silver piece across the chipped wood. “Keep the change,” he said, noting the curiosity in her eyes as she caught a glimpse of the deep blue-grey of his skin and pulled his hand back beneath the wool of his cloak. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t imagine sleeping any time soon.”

There was a restless energy beneath his skin, a tingle completely different from the magic the Lady allowed to run through him. “I feel like I want to...I dunno, run, or fight, just _do_ something.”

Chary swallowed down a generous gulp of ale. “If you were so inclined, I’m sure you could find someone out there”—he waved a hand towards the increasingly raucous room—“to help you work off that excess energy.”

“What do you—” Thryl blinked in understanding as his brain finally caught up. “_Oh_…” he said. “Is that— Do you— Would that help?”

Chary simply chuckled under his breath, stretching his arms out and resting them behind his head, the voluminous sleeves of his robes slipping down to reveal the olive skin of his forearms. “You really haven’t been up here long enough, my friend.”

Thryl frowned, folding his arms against his chest and glaring in Chary’s direction, receiving only a smirk in return. He breathed in a sigh and took a deep drink before turning his gaze towards the myriad groups surrounding them.

From their position crammed into the tiny corner booth, most of the room was visible. The tavern-keeper was busy behind the lower half of the two-tiered bar, a wide grin on her face despite the drunken gnomes arguing loudly almost directly in front of her. Beside that, at the partition of the bar designated for the taller folks, a copper-skinned dragonborn polished glasses, his amber eyes skimming the crowd as he worked. 

To their right, a series of booths lined the wall, dimmer lit than the rest of the room—though that made no difference with Thryl’s darkvision. Smaller groups and larger parties all crammed around tables, some bent in deep conversation, others poring over maps, and a few simply sitting back and enjoying their drinks, much as Thryl and Chary were. 

A few more waitstaff darted from table to table, bringing trays of food from the kitchens in the back. Most of it seemed to be going to the group of dwarves by the fireplace who were getting deeper and deeper in their cups, voices rising as they talked over one another.

“I’ll bet you ten silver that they are singing about gold before the night is out,” Chary whispered, taking another long pull of his drink and shifting slightly, his knee bumping against Thryl’s own as he leaned over to get a better look.

“I’m not throwing my money away,” Thryl said, jabbing an elbow into Chary’s ribs. “It’s crowded enough here, I don’t need you crawling into my lap.” He could feel a slow heat creeping up his neck. “Anyway, what are you looking for? Someone to ‘work off energy’ with?”

A dark eyebrow raised and Thryl felt the prickling heat spread up the length of his ears as Chary slowly smiled. “I am content right here,” he said, raising his mug in a toast. “This scroll isn’t going to decipher itself. You go find yourself some companionship, my friend.” He gave Thryl a pat to the knee. “Just hang something on the doorknob if you are successful, yes? Then I’ll know to bunk with the others.”

“I—” Thryl could feel the blood in his cheeks, glad for both the shadow of his hood and the darkness of his skin, hopefully hiding the worst of the blush. He took a deep gulp of his drink and slid out from their booth, taking a deep breath.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to find anyone. He’d much rather work off his adrenaline with a good fight—though given the size of the half-orc bouncer at the door, that seemed like an unwise choice. Instead, Thryl sidled around the long communal tables that lined the centre of the room and scanned the crowd of patrons, searching for a friendly face if nothing else. 

His boots stuck to the wood of the floor with every step, the sound of voices rising and falling around him. People of every race were crowded into the bar; far more variety and life than Thryl had seen in his short hundred-and-twenty-five years. A human woman caught his gaze and tilted her head, eyes squinting to make out his face within the voluminous hood before she flashed a bright smile. Thryl's own lips were tight as he returned the smile before turning away: he may not have learned much since leaving the Underdark, but he at least knew where his tastes lay. 

Twisting his fingers into the folds of his sleeve, Thryl stepped over towards the bar. He steeled himself before shoving the hood of his cloak down, ears twitching up and catching a few brief whispers.

_“An elf?!”_

_“That’s not a Drow, is it?”_

_“Thought they all kept to themselves out Westwards.”_

Thryl straightened his shoulders and held his head up, pretending he hadn’t overheard the soft flurry of chatter. He turned his attention to the fireside, noting a few people on low benches gathering around a grinning tiefling bard who brandished his lute like a weapon, pointing it towards the assembled patrons. 

“Come, come, surely one of you lovely people can spare a few coppers for a song?” His voice was low and melodic, his gaze falling upon each person seated in turn. His eyes glowed a soft yellow, like embers against the deep red of his skin. When Thryl stepped closer the tiefling glanced up, his smile growing wider, faintly pointed teeth gleaming. "Well hello there, beautiful," he said. "You're new around here. I'm sure I'd remember seeing you before. Just passing through?” 

Thryl nodded, swallowing against the tide of nerves that had risen up inside him. He had no idea what he was doing, it was probably obvious. 

If it was, the tiefling didn't seem to care. There was a soft thrum as he ran his fingers over the strings of his lute, forked tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "Looking for some entertainment?” 

“S-something like that." Thryl slipped his fingers into his coin pouch, grabbing the first coin he found and holding it out, seeing the tiefling's eyes widen in surprise. 

"Gold? Really?" he asked, voice high before he seemed to recover his composure, an easy smile quickly curving up his lips to hide his confusion. "I'm glad you value my company so highly." He stood to his full height—an inch or two shorter than Thryl himself, though the upwards curve of his horns added an extra half foot—and looked over the small crowd. "Well then ladies and gentlefolks, I promised you a song, didn't I?" He caught Thryl's eye, winked, and then began to play.

Thryl didn't hear the words, or the music, all he could feel was a pounding between his ears, the roiling sea of nerves boiling into a storm within him. He glanced back over his shoulder to the table where Chary sat, fingers idly stroking at his beard, dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he pored over the scroll. He sipped at his drink before seeming to feel Thryl's gaze upon him—some odd Monk trick most likely—and glanced up, peering towards Thryl through the crowd, eyebrow raised in question. 

Another surge of heat pulsed through Thryl's veins in a stomach-twisting mixture of nerves and embarrassment. He was going to make a fool of himself, he knew it. 

There was a smattering of applause and the tiefling took a bow. His dark hair fell loose over his forehead only to be swept back with one hand and a crooked smile. He sidled up to Thryl, setting the lute to one side. "So, can I buy you a drink?” 

“I, um, I've got a drink," Thryl waved a hand vaguely towards the table. "I just wanted to, um…say hello?” His voice was strangled, his throat tight. 

The tiefling's smile softened from cocky to companionable. "Well then, hello to you, too. I'm Pique, resident bard here in this crowded little crossroads of a town." One eyebrow arched up, amusement written in every line of Pique's face. "Let me guess, you're an adventurer?”

Thryl glanced down at the weather-worn cloak that covered him, his rapier barely concealed by the grey folds. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How could you tell?” 

“Lucky guess," Pique said, holding one hand out in a gesture that encompassed the entire room—almost every occupant looking like they could come under the ‘adventurer’ mantle in some way or another. Pique grinned again, his eyes seeming to glow as he looked Thryl over. "I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, yes! I'm Thryl, um, Fandathryl." Thryl frowned. "Just call me Thryl."

A hand ran down Thryl's spine to gently rest in the small of his back, barely perceptible through the layer of chain mail. "Maybe we could move to someplace quieter then, Thryl?” Pique's pointed grin sent a shiver through him, one that made Thryl squirm in a way he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with. Joking about working off energy at the table with Chary was one thing; actively going off with a stranger was quite another. Thryl could feel the tremor of nerves beneath his skin as Pique led them to a quieter alcove beneath the stairs, the smile never leaving his lips. 

"So," Pique said, his tail curling around himself as he settled into a low couch and petted the cushion at his side, "tell me what brings you here. We haven't seen elves in these parts for quite some time."

Adjusting his scabbard, Thryl sat down, the cushion sinking beneath the weight of his armour and bringing him flush to Pique's side. He was warm, even through Thryl's many layers. One hand gently came to rest on his shoulder as Pique turned to face him, his eyes softly glowing in the low light. 

"You know, I keep hearing that. Since I left home, I haven't seen any other elves either," Thryl said with a shrug. "But that's not why we're here, we had some sort of artifact to find." 

"Sounds intriguing, what for?” 

Thryl shrugged again. "I'm not really sure, most of that conversation went over my head. You'd need to ask my friend Chary, he's really smart." Thryl glanced over at the table, seeing Chary still poring over the scroll, a look of intense concentration on his face as he scribbled notes onto some parchment by his side. A flutter of warmth rose in Thryl's stomach and he smiled softly. 

Pique’s head was tilted to one side as Thryl turned back to him, one eyebrow arched and an unreadable expression on his face. Thryl straightened up, remembering he was supposed to be participating in a conversation. He waved a hand, trying to act as if dungeon crawling was an everyday occurance instead of a terrifying new experience. "I'm surprised we made it out of the ruins alive, actually."

Pique's expression softened and he leaned in close, voice a low purr, "And let me guess, now you want to celebrate being alive?” He ran one finger up the length of Thryl's ear, making shivers ripple up his spine. He slid even closer, the warmth of his skin carrying a scent that reminded Thryl of wood-smoke and cinnamon. “I'm more than happy to help with that." His breath was a warm whisper on Thryl's skin, his other hand coming to rest on one knee, squeezing gently before slowly trailing upwards. 

Warmth was pooling in Thryl’s chest, spreading through him in a sudden rush. He wet his lips, leaning in. Pique’s gaze seemed to draw him further, like a moth caught in the soft yellow glow.

Slowly, Pique’s hand grazed further up Thryl’s thigh, and despite the warmth he could feel his muscles tensing, a tight knot of fear twisting cold in his stomach. He swallowed, willing himself to relax. He could do this, there was nothing to be nervous about. Thryl drew in a shaky breath, his fingers clenching in the wool of his cloak as he squeezed his eyes shut.

In an instant Pique's movements stopped, and Thryl blinked, glancing up to see Pique’s eyes, wide with concern. Biting at his lower lip, Pique pulled away, his brows furrowing. "Maybe I have completely misread this." He took his hand from Thryl's knee and shoved his hair back from his face with a rueful smile. "I'm really sorry."

"No! I want to…" Thryl scrambled to grab ahold of Pique's hand, embarrassment flushing through him to the very tips of his ears. Something twisted inside him almost painfully, throwing up a barrier even as he told himself that it was just nerves, "...or at least I thought I wanted to. I'm sorry, I just—” His gaze dropped to his feet, his stomach churning. “I don't actually know what I want.” His words seemed to spill from him in a rush. “Chary mentioned something about working off energy and I thought I might as well try because it seemed like fun, but I have no idea what I’m doing, and you’re very nice, and very handsome, but I...I just don’t know."

"Hey, it's okay," Pique said, patting gently at the back of Thryl's hand and inching closer once more. "You don't need to figure it out right now." He smiled softly. "I take it you're pretty new at this?” 

“Is it that obvious?” Thryl sighed, the tide of embarrassment rising once more. It took everything he had not to tug his hood back up and take refuge in the depths of his cloak. “I haven't been up here very long, and things in the Underdark are, um, a little different." He frowned. “_Very_ different." He glanced up and found Pique's eyes filled with understanding. "Okay, I'm shit at social interaction," he felt the corner of his lips twitch up, "as you can see." 

Pique let out a soft laugh, giving Thryl's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're better than you think," he said. "Though, I don't think casual ‘I survived’ sex is quite what you’re looking for, eh?”

Thryl shook his head, the braid that dangled over his left ear bouncing with the movement. “Not for the first time, at least,” he said, trying to push some—entirely false—confidence into his tone. His shoulders sagged as a little of the nervous tension that filled him seemed to dissipate. “Thanks for being so nice.” 

“Of course,” Pique said with a crooked smile that seemed to brighten as Thryl met his gaze. His voice lowered, the tone of confidence wavering just a little, "Hey, um, maybe next time you're passing through, I can buy you that drink, or show you around the night market or something?” 

Thryl breathed in, a flutter of excitement bubbling up inside him, fighting valiantly against the cocktail of nerves and embarrassment that still pooled in his stomach. "Yeah," he said, "I'd like that."

"Well then," Pique said with a brief squeeze to Thryl's shoulder, "until next time." He pressed a fleeting kiss to one cheek and winked before grabbing his lute and sauntering away, his tail curling like a question mark behind him. 

Thryl blinked, trying to pull himself together. That had not gone well. It hadn't gone _badly_, but it hadn't gone well. He slunk back to the table, grabbing what remained of his drink and slamming it down in a single gulp. 

Chary didn't seem to have noticed his return, poring over his notes and muttering to himself as he scribbled. Thryl slid in next to him, peering at the tiny, cramped writing. Reading gave him trouble at the best of times so he doubted he'd be able to make much of what he could see. He sat back, waiting for Chary to realise he was no longer alone. 

It took a few more minutes. Thryl had just signalled the bartender for more ale when Chary finally surfaced, blinking, a streak of black across his forehead where he'd shoved his hair back with ink-spattered fingers. "Oh, hello," he said as Thryl raised his empty mug in greeting. "That was fast."

"Shut up," Thryl said, folding his arms across his chest. "I feel bad enough without you taking the piss."

Chary tilted his head, a look of mild concern on his face. "What happened?” 

“Nothing." Thryl slid down in his seat, feeling himself waver under Chary's steady gaze. "He was very nice and very charming and I made an arse out of myself."

Chary leaned on one elbow, expectant, his eyebrows raised. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad." Something in his tone told Thryl that he wasn’t going to be satisfied without an explanation and he sighed. Of course. Chary was ever the researcher. 

Their drinks arrived, brought by the same smiling halfling and Thryl accepted his gratefully, taking a long swig before meeting Chary's gaze. "I just froze up, that's all.” He could feel the heat rising to his ears again. “I got nervous, just kept thinking about how I have no idea what I'm doing and that I'd be a huge disappointment. Nothing new."

"You need to stop bringing yourself down, my friend. You have many valuable skills." Chary tugged aside the neck of his robe to expose a long scar that twisted down his throat. The skin was pink and shiny, still healing—though given that it had only been a few hours, it was looking pretty good. "If you hadn't healed this then I'd probably be dead," Chary said, "so please stop selling yourself short." He took a moment to glance over the crowds at the bar. "I'm sure you can try again if you really want to find someone. After all, you can't get better at something if you don't practice."

Thryl scoffed, folding his legs up and sliding as far as he could into the corner of the booth where he would be hidden. "Yeah, okay, I'll just march up to a stranger and ask them to teach me how to have sex, that sounds like a perfect plan, not embarrassing _at all_."

"Suit yourself," Chary said with a shrug. He glanced at Thryl and changed the subject. "Would you like to know what I have discovered from our scroll?” His dark eyes sparkled and Thryl couldn't help but smile. 

"Go on then. I can't promise I'll understand much, but I'm happy to listen." Thryl sat back, steadily sipping at his drink, feeling the world start to loosen around the edges as the ale started to take hold. The knot of worry inside him seemed to be lessening now, leaving behind it a feeling of hollow dissatisfaction that Thryl had no idea how to counteract. He sighed into his drink, letting Chary's words wash over him. 

The arcane lore was far beyond Thryl's comprehension; his knowledge of gods encompassed the Lady Eilistraee and the Spider Queen, little else. He nodded along, though, content to listen to Chary explain. The softly rolling tones of his voice were very relaxing, the Shiraan accent of the Southern isles turning every word to honey in Thryl’s ears. 

He was warm, a familiar fizz of excitement buzzing beneath his skin as he looked Chary over. The dim candlelight brought forth flecks of reddish-gold in his hair, tousled by constantly twitching fingers. Chary's smile was wide and even, excitement written all over his face. Thryl couldn't imagine getting so worked up by reading, but it was nice to see Chary in his element. A flurry of feelings spiralled within Thryl's chest and he smiled softly to himself.

After another half hour of Chary's findings—of which, Thryl understood almost nothing—and another round of drinks—which were a little easier on Thryl's mental processes—an idea was starting to form. Maybe it was the drinks making things easier, maybe it was the company, but Thryl could feel himself finally starting to relax. He scooted a little closer to Chary, leaning over in pretense of peering at the scroll. He could feel the warmth of Chary's shoulder against his own and cleared his throat. 

"Chary?"

"Hm?"

"You know a lot of things, don't you?"

Dark brows knit together in confusion and Chary sat back, looking Thryl over. "It depends on the subject," he said. "Was there something in particular that you want to know?” 

“Lots of things...” Thryl said, his voice trailing off. He bit at his lower lip, dropping his gaze back to the table and sipping quietly at his ale. His ears twitched up as he listened to the buzz of conversation that still surrounded them. The tavern was full, customers steadily flowing in and out; adventurers, merchants and townsfolk mingled together, relaxed and happy.

Thryl smiled over the rim of his drink, for once feeling at peace with himself. He felt a prickle on his skin and glanced up, catching Chary’s gaze darting away from him. 

Interesting. 

A burst of excitement sparked in Thryl's chest and he looked away, watching out of the corner of his eye to see if Chary looked again. 

He did. 

Running his finger around the rim of his mug, Thryl waited for Chary's attention to return to the scroll before leaning close once more. He kept his voice low.

"Chary?"

Chary's lips twitched up and he looked up to meet Thryl's gaze. "Yes, Thryl?"

Thryl waved his hand up in down in a slow sweep, gesturing over Chary's robes. "You're a monk, right?" 

"I would have thought you would know that by now." With a wry smile, Chary patted at his staff before folding his arms. He leaned back in the booth, his knee brushing against Thryl's own.

Thryl smiled slowly, emboldened by the brief contact. "I just mean— I mean, I wanted to know...have you taken, I dunno, a vow of chastity or something like that?"

Chary shook his head, shaggy hair bouncing. He uncurled his arms and stretched, catlike, all long limbs and lithe movements. The smile that crept up his lips this time was darker, knowing. "My order isn't really like that," he said. 

Thryl swallowed, feeling a burning heat rush through him. He nodded, mostly to himself. 

"Oh, okay, good to know."

Thryl's teeth scraped over his lower lip as he turned over his thoughts. There was nothing really to lose. Even if Chary rejected the idea, he could always blame the ale. He leaned in once more, ears twitching with nerves. 

"Chary?"

"Fandathryl?"

"Maybe you and I could, um…" He placed his hand on Chary's knee, much as Pique had done to him earlier. "Maybe _you_ could show me how to…” 

Chary's brows were high, though he showed no signs of disgust or rejection, something which bolstered Thryl's confidence a little. He shifted, the muscles of his leg bunching beneath Thryl’s hand as he moved just the smallest bit closer. Chary’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight, his voice low, sending a shiver down Thryl’s spine. “Are you asking me to bed you?” 

Thryl nodded, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe I am. What do you think?”

Chary didn’t answer, he simply raised his fingers to his chin, rubbing over the dark hair, considering. "Why do you want to do that with me in particular?”

Thryl scrunched up his nose, trying to find the right words. "Well,” he said, “you're my friend and I know I can trust you not to make fun of me.” He twisted his braid between two fingers, the candlelight redoubling in the obsidian bead and reflecting in shards across the tabletop. “I don’t want to just go off with a stranger for the sake of it.” Heat was burning though Thryl as the words kept coming. “You’re always nice to me, and you always smell very nice and you’re really nice to look at as well…” he was babbling now, he knew it. 

Pressing his lips tight together, Thryl gave a small smile, glancing at Chary from beneath his eyelashes as he mumbled, “I think it would be fun."

“Hm.” Chary took a drink, nodding to himself, his expression giving nothing away. His hand landed atop Thryl’s, grasping him gently by the wrist. He made no move to take Thryl’s hand from his knee, simply running his fingers over his pulse in minute circles.

Thryl could feel his heartbeat speeding as Chary’s eyes met his once more. He could read nothing in the inscrutable brown depths and sent a silent wish to the Lady that he hadn’t fucked things up with the first real friend he’d had since leaving the Underdark.

“Look, never mind, I—”

Thryl’s breath left him as Chary tugged him by the wrist, jerking him forwards. He felt his eyes go wide before his vision was filled with dark hair and olive skin.

Chary’s lips were on his own, rough and slightly chapped, the faint taste of ale sliding over Thryl’s tongue with every warmth breath. Thryl slid his eyes shut, fingers tightening on Chary’s knee. His pulse was speeding, scattering all trace of thought from his head. Chary’s other hand came to rest at the back of Thryl’s neck, holding him in place as his tongue swept across the seam of his lips. Thryl gasped, trying to respond as Chary's tongue nudged at his own for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of want arcing through him like lightning. 

Thryl pushed forward as Chary pulled back, smiling as he broke the kiss. He shoved a lock of hair behind one ear and pulled his notes towards him once more. "I'll think about it," he said. 

Thryl tried to speak, succeeding only in making a noise that sounded something like _"Bnh…"_

Blood pulsed beneath his cheeks so hard that Thryl felt like they must be glowing. He glanced at his reflection as best he could in the side of his mug, seeing only a purplish blur. His breath was erratic, trying to keep up with the pounding of his heart. To Thryl's amazement, Chary seemed entirely unaffected—save for the self-satisfied smile that curled about his lips and the barest hint of pink at the points of his ears. 

“Right…" Thryl said with a shaky breath, his tongue finally cooperating and allowing him to speak actual words, "...think about it. Good. Excellent." He gulped down his drink, catching Chary's gaze and spluttering. Ale dripped down his chin and Thryl wiped it away with one hand, butterflies filling his stomach when he realised that Chary was amused, rather than irritated by his clumsiness. He gave an awkward smile. "I should go wash up, then I think I might call it a night." 

Chary nodded. "Sleep well, my friend. I am going to read a little while longer."

Thryl drained his mug and shuffled towards the edge of the booth, noting the way Chary's gaze followed him. A soft smile tugged at his lips and as he headed for the stairs to the rooms on the tavern’s upper floors it took everything he had not to glance back.

The sound of conversation and laughter muffled as Thryl reached the top of the stairs, some spell seemed to have been woven into the wood to block the noise of the bar. By the time he reached their rooms the sound was all but gone. The rooms were at the back of the building, nothing too fancy, but small and comfortable enough. After the crowds of the bar, Thryl was glad to have some space to himself. 

He sighed in relief as he shut the door and started to remove his layers, the weight quite literally falling from his shoulders as his chainmail spilled to the floor in a silvery pool. He grabbed a spare undertunic from his pack and slipped into the bathroom that separated their room from that of their other companions. 

Like the rest of the tavern rooms, the bathroom was simple. A shallow tub stood to one side, a washstand in the other. The faint sound of snores sounded from the other door and Thryl smiled; for someone so stealthy, their rogue made an awful lot of noise when he slept. 

With a glance around, Thryl tugged off the last of his clothes, working on unfastening the thick braid of his hair while he waited for the bath to fill. All he wore now was his Holy Symbol—though he had no need of it to remind him of his service to the Lady. 

Goosepimples pricked at his skin despite the rising warmth in the air. She had said she was watching over him; did that mean always? Thryl glanced around the empty room, taking the symbol in his hand, running his fingers over the little silver figure, tracing the point of her sword with his thumb. His gaze fell on the sliver of moonlight that crept in through the narrow window, a silver streak across the floor and he cleared his throat. 

“Um, Lady Eilistraee? If you're here, thank you for helping me save Chary today.” He could feel the warm pool of healing magic still within him, diminished but not depleted, curling around his heart in a soft embrace. Considering, Thryl pursed his lips together. "But, um, if something _does_ happen with him, could you maybe not watch over me at that particular point? That's a little weird." He idly wondered if being a Paladin meant a vow of chastity—though if Chary's monks didn't go in for it then he didn't see why he should. He stepped into the bath, letting go of the symbol. "Okay, that's all for now, thanks again." 

The warm water was a luxury Thryl had rarely experienced and he sighed in contentment, sinking under as far as he could. He stretched out his legs, feeling the aches of the day slowly easing away as he soaked. Letting his thoughts drift, Thryl ran his fingers over his lips, smiling to himself. Even if nothing else happened, Chary had kissed him. 

Breathing deep, Thryl ran his fingers through his hair and turned his attention to washing. Though he didn’t need the same kind of sleep as his halfling and half-elven companions, it was nice to lie in silence for a while, and the hour was getting late.

The water was just starting to cool when Thryl finally emerged, drying off as much of his hair as he could on the thin strips of cloth that served the inn as towels. He slipped on his undertunic, the hem landing just above his knees. Having his legs exposed wasn't something that Thryl was particularly concerned with; as long as he was covered from throat to wrist.

The room was still empty and Thryl felt a pang of disappointment. Part of him had been hoping that Chary would be waiting for him, maybe even in his bed. His cock gave a stir of interest and Thryl suddenly regretted not taking advantage of his time in the bath. He grumbled to himself, settling in front of the room's small, clouded mirror and started to brush the tangles from his hair.

The movement was soothing and repetitive and Thryl let his mind wander, idly replaying the events of the day. He could do better, he could be faster, he didn't want his friends to get hurt again.

The door opened with a creak and Thryl glanced past his own reflection to see Chary still holding a handful of notes crumpled against his staff, his other hand fiddling with the fastening of his cloak. He shoved off his boots and caught Thryl's eye, smiling at his reflection and giving a nod.

"Fandathryl."

"Charytis."

Thryl stood, shaking his hair out. He'd retie it in his customary braid in the morning. His ear twitched at an unexpected movement beside him and in an instant there were strong arms around his waist, warm lips pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Behind them, Chary’s staff clattered to the floor.

The soft scrape of facial hair sent a shiver down Thryl's spine and he turned in the circle of Chary's arms to face him, a smirk on his lips.

"So, you thought about it then?"

He didn't wait for a reply.

Wrapping his arms around Chary's neck, Thryl rose up to meet his lips in a kiss that, while less unexpected then the first, contained just as much heat. He could feel the rumble of Chary's laughter against his chest and smiled into the kiss. 

The flavour of ale quickly faded from Chary's lips, the taste becoming something no less intoxicating. Thryl gasped, feeling Chary's hands slide up his back, his tunic catching and rising just a little. He surged forwards, the heat within him burning with an unquenchable desire for more. In his enthusiasm he pushed a little too far and there was a jarring sensation as their teeth crashed together. 

"Sorry," Thryl mumbled and Chary shook his head, leaning back in, peppering the line of Thryl's lips with light kisses before drawing his lower lip into his mouth, his tongue gently sliding over it. 

Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, Thryl's nose bumped against Chary's and he frowned. He felt Chary let out a soft breath that sounded almost like a sigh and felt a flicker of annoyance burn through him; he was doing this wrong already. 

Fingers clenching in the fabric of Chary's robe, Thryl pulled away, his face scrunched. Chary's arms were tight around him, his hands tracing circles over his shoulder blades. "Is everything all right?” Chary asked, brows high in concern. 

Thryl let his hands fall to his sides. "I'm really bad at this," he said. 

"Nonsense." Chary's hands slid up, fingers lightly trailing over his neck. He cupped Thryl's face in both hands. "You are thinking too hard."

"That's a first," Thryl said, leaning into the touch and smiling at Chary's soft huff of laughter. 

"If it feels good then you're doing it right, okay? If there is something you don't like, or you decide you want to stop, that's okay, too." Chary smiled, leaning down to press their foreheads together. "Like you said, this is supposed to be fun, yes?” 

Thryl nodded and took a deep breath, trying to will himself to relax. One of Chary's hands still cradled his cheek while the other slowly trailed down his neck, gently brushing his chest through the loose fabric of his tunic. He tilted his face up to accept another kiss, slower and softer this time.

Syrupy warmth spread through Thryl with every caress of Chary’s lips. He breathed deep, sinking into the sensations; the faint tickle of hair above his upper lip, the heat of Chary’s breath, the solid, steadying feel of muscle beneath his hands. Thryl ran his hands down Chary’s back, feeling the coiled power and wiry strength, stable and reassuring. He finally landed on Chary’s hips, holding tight and pressing close.

An involuntary groan worked its way from Thryl as Chary’s teeth scraped over his lower lip, his tongue flicking out immediately afterwards to soothe over the mark. He could feel himself already getting hard and tightened his grip on Chary’s hips, trying his hardest not to rut against him. Chary’s lips had parted, his tongue teasing against Thryl’s in a gentle sweep that Thryl tentatively copied, a spark of triumph lighting inside him when he heard Chary groan in response. His fingers tightened in Thryl’s hair, just for a second, before Chary brought his hand back down, brushing over the tip of one long ear.

Thryl hissed in a breath, heat burning through him in a rush of sensation. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered, pulling away to catch his breath. He felt as if every nerve had been lit, a thousand sparkling points of sensation all at once, more than he could handle.

“Too much?” Chary asked, and Thryl nodded, trying to catch his breath.

“Okay, I’ll remember that,” Chary said, raising a hand to the faint points of his own ears. “I’m not surprised, I know mine can be, and I’m just half-elven.” He ducked down to press a quick peck to Thryl’s lips, a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “Everything still okay?”

Thryl wet his lips, smiling to himself. “More than okay.” He tugged Chary back down, his confidence steadily growing. “We should get on the bed,” he murmured, “and you should be wearing less clothes.”

Chary glanced down, the corner of his lips twitching up as he seemed to take in Thryl’s half dressed state, the line of his erection making the hem of his tunic rise even higher. His cheeks darkened and he snapped his gaze back to Thryl’s face. “That seems fair,” he said, “would you care to do the honours?”

Thryl grinned, tugging at one end of the sash holding Chary’s robes closed and blinked in surprise as the knot slipped free in an instant. “Is it always this easy to get your clothes off?” he asked, shoving the robes downwards to reveal freckled shoulders and the scar at Chary's throat, still slowly fading.

“Only when it’s you, my friend,” Chary said, a short breath leaving his lips as Thryl set to kissing every inch of skin he had revealed. He could taste the faint salt of sweat and ran his tongue over one sharp collarbone, feeling a burst of heat when Chary gasped once more. He ran his hands over Chary’s chest, threading his fingers through the dark hair and holding tight. Every inch of Chary’s body was lithe muscle and Thryl breathed deep, desperate to keep touching any part of him he could get his hands on. Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this, that they were doing this. Okay, he may have pictured something similar on some of the lonelier nights in his bedroll, but Thryl never could have thought those imaginings would actually come true.

Pressing a kiss to the hollow of Chary’s throat, Thryl murmured, “We will still be friends after this, won’t we?”

Brows creasing in confusion, Chary peered down, meeting Thryl’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t we be friends?” He pulled Thryl in for another kiss, deeper this time, wetter, messier, his usual composure seemingly starting to dissipate.

“I dunno,” Thryl said, when they pulled apart, his breath catching in his chest. “Just, y’know, seeing each other like this, doing, y’know…stuff. Maybe it would make things weird.” He shrugged, settling onto his bed, Chary immediately following. His smile was soft, his hand sliding up Thryl’s thigh as he leaned in, bringing their faces only centimetres apart.

“Of course we’ll still be friends,” he said, pressing a line of kisses up Thryl’s jaw, the scrape of his stubble making Thryl shiver. “Just maybe, sometimes, if we are sharing a room, we can do this as well, yes?”

“Mm, yeah.” Thryl dug his fingers into Chary’s hair, bringing him in for another kiss. “I like that idea.” Feeling daring, he swung one leg over to straddle Chary's lap, placing his hands on his chest to gently push him back onto the pillows. Thryl settled back, a sense of relief washing over him as he felt a hard line at his backside; Chary was enjoying this as much as he was. He grinned, feeling a flutter of excitement at the sight of Chary half-dressed beneath him, a deep flush on his chest and neck, little spots of colour high on his cheeks. 

"So," Thryl said, rocking his hips to feel the drag of Chary's cock through the thin fabric of his trousers and hissed in a breath as Chary arched to meet him, "I'm doing okay?” 

Chary's hands skimmed up Thryl's thighs, pushing his tunic higher. "Very good," he said, hands landing on Thryl's hips to help guide his movements. He sat up—the clench of his stomach muscles making Thryl's mouth run dry—and pulled him down in a kiss that was pure heat. 

Gasping, Thryl curled his tongue around Chary's own, feeling rather than hearing the rumbling groan deep in his chest. He dragged his hands over the taut muscle of Chary's stomach, heat pooling inside him as his fingers skimmed over his hips, continuing upwards. 

Chary tensed as Thryl brushed over his ribs, hissing in a breath. His brows creased and Thryl pulled back in concern. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?” 

Chary shook his head, taking Thryl by his wrists and moving his hands up to his chest. "It’s nothing," he said, "I'm just a little ticklish there."

Thryl arched an eyebrow, a smile curling up his lips. "_No_, really? All the monk training, body-as-a-weapon shit and you're _ticklish_?” 

Chary's nose wrinkled and he pursed his lips, unimpressed—though his flushed cheeks and shirtless state ruined the effect a little. He slid his hands to Thryl's hips once more. "Yes, a little, now weren't we—” 

A strangled laugh burst from Chary's lips as Thryl danced his fingertips along his sides, feather-light, a wide grin on his face. There was something very satisfying about seeing the normally stoic monk reduced to a fit of giggles and Thryl couldn't keep the smile from his face. Chary gasped in a breath, trying to grab for Thryl's wrists, though Thryl easily broke free of his grasp. He gazed down, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to Chary's lips. 

"You're cute when you're flustered, you know," he said, feeling Chary's arm slip around his waist. 

"So are you," Chary said, his other hand coming to rest on Thryl's ass and giving a brief squeeze that drew an unexpected gasp. There was a glimmer in Chary's eyes, dark and heated, making Thryl quiver with anticipation. He reached down to smooth his palms over Chary's stomach before, without warning, Chary turned, flipping Thryl onto his back and settling atop him with a faint smirk. He opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the heated press of Chary's lips. 

Groaning into Chary's mouth, Thryl arched up, grinding against him. He dug his fingers into the waves of Chary's hair, his toes curling as their tongues twined together. His heart was pounding in his chest, whatever nerves he had had before transformed into a burning sensation of pure want. Every touch made him crave more, every kiss making his desire burn harder. The weight of Chary on top of him made his heart race; though he knew he was stronger, he felt pinned by the heat in Chary’s every touch. He pressed up, a thrill of excitement burning through him as he spread his legs, Chary sliding between them as if that was exactly where he belonged. Thryl felt Chary start to pull his tunic up and panic bloomed. He pressed a hand to Chary’s sternum, stuttering out, 

"W-wait! Can we leave this on, please?” 

“I— Yes, if that's what you're comfortable with." Thryl thought he could detect a hint of disappointment in Chary's voice and stroked his free hand through his hair, twisting at the dark strands as he fumbled to explain. 

"I have scars," he mumbled, "scars my magic can't heal. I'd rather you not see them."

Chary's expression softened and he raised a hand to brush over Thryl's cheek. "Oh, of course," he said. He pressed a kiss to Thryl's lips, soft and slow, making him sigh and sink into the pillows as his body relaxed. He ran his hands down the muscles of Chary's back, hesitating for a moment before tentatively squeezing at his ass. 

It was soft, yet firm, and Thryl let out a groan, taking one cheek in each hand and pulling Chary towards him. He rocked his hips, hissing in a breath as he felt the hot line of Chary's cock hard against his own. 

"Mm, good." Chary's voice had roughened. He matched Thryl's movements, grinding against him in long, slow thrusts. Thryl arched up, his breath speeding every time they pressed together. He could feel his heart pounding, almost overwhelming. Chary's gaze was fixed on his face and Thryl knew he was watching for any sign of discomfort, a thought which made butterflies swarm in his stomach: he could trust Chary to take care of him. 

Chary's roughly calloused palms were back at Thryl's waist, his tunic rucked up to his stomach, cock bobbing free as Chary moved back, whispering against Thryl's neck, "Is this okay?” 

Thryl nodded. "Yes," he gasped. 

"Okay, good."

Chary's lips were soft as he kissed a trail down Thryl's throat, the hair of his beard causing little pinpricks of sensation. He brushed over Thryl's clothed chest, nuzzling against one pebbled nipple, visible through the thin cotton. 

"Fuck," Thryl groaned, his cock twitching as Chary continued his path downwards, hitching the tunic up just the smallest bit more to pepper kisses around his navel. Thryl's fingers twitched as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching, trying his hardest to keep his arousal in check. Chary's breath was warm against his skin, though he still shivered, groaning as the path of Chary's lips trailed down the inside of his thigh, bypassing his cock completely. 

"_Chary…_" 

Chary glanced up and grinned, holding Thryl's gaze as he dipped down, running his tongue along the underside of his cock. 

"Oh gods," Thryl gasped, his eyes falling shut as he arched into the sensation. He could already feel the heat of arousal building and he held himself back, trying to think of anything other than the warm, wet heat of Chary's mouth. Though he was certain Chary wouldn't mind, Thryl couldn't face the embarrassment of coming too soon. 

With what sounded like an appreciative hum, Chary bobbed his head, dragging his tongue up to circle the tip of Thryl's cock. With one hand he held tight to Thryl's hip, gently controlling the level of his thrusts. His other hand was pressed between Thryl's legs, gently cupping and fondling, moving in time with every dip of his head. 

Breath catching, Thryl reached down, stroking his fingers through Chary’s hair, needing something to hold on to. He could feel the warmth pooling within him and swallowed back the moan that threatened to burst from his lips. Chary pulled back, cheeks hollowed, causing another spike of pure heat that made Thryl’s toes curl and his thighs tremble. He cracked his lids open, glancing down to see Chary, eyes closed, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. His tongue swirled around the tip of Thryl’s cock, sliding beneath the foreskin and making him whimper, hips rocking forward only to be stopped by Chary’s steady hand.

Thryl lay transfixed, unable to drag his gaze from Chary’s lips stretched around him, somehow still curved in a smirk. He could feel the hammering of his heart in his chest, pulse speeding as Chary’s eyes opened, darkness beneath still darker lashes. He dipped down once more, keeping eye contact, his long fingers sliding back between Thryl’s cheeks, one fingertip gently brushing over his entrance. Chary’s eyebrow raised in a silent question and Thryl nodded, gasping out.

“Y-yes. I want that.” He urged Chary’s head up, stroking over the spikes of hair that his tight grasp had mussed. “Not yet, though. I haven’t even touched you yet.” He shuddered in a breath as Chary’s finger swept back over his hole. “I _really_ want to touch you.”

With a last lap at the head of Thryl’s cock, Chary pulled up, grinning. 

“I can’t argue with that,” he said, sitting up on his knees to gaze down at Thryl. 

A faint flush covered Chary’s cheeks, though Thryl could see no other sign of his arousal. He sat up, hauling Chary in for a heated kiss, trying to pour the white-hot sensation that ran through every vein into the messy press of his lips. With one hand Thryl reached for the lacing of Chary’s trousers, his fingers trembling in excitement as he brushed over the hard line of his cock.

Thryl could feel Chary’s smile against his lips as their hands brushed together, both of them pushing the last layers of Chary’s clothes down. He scrambled out of his smallclothes, tossing them to the floor with the rest of his robes and grinned at Thryl, who couldn’t keep his gaze from travelling lower.

Coarse hair circled Chary’s navel, trailing down to a dark mass at the base of his cock. Thryl trailed his fingers through the wiry curls, so different from the thin, barely-there patches of his own body hair. He wet his lips, running both hands up to Chary’s shoulders and back down, drinking in the play of muscle beneath his fingertips as he dragged his fingers through the dark hair of his chest.

“Gods,” Thryl said, breathing deep through his nose and catching the scent of sweat, the faint sweet musk of sex just starting to rise in the air, “you are so...wow.” He swallowed, hardly believing his own luck. “I never would have thought this would happen with someone as hot as you.” He caught sight of Chary’s face, his lips twitching up in amusement and stuttered, “N-not that it’s just about looks, I mean you’re always nice and really smart and I like being friends with you a lot.” He scraped over his lower lip with his teeth, feeling a flush rising to his cheeks even now. “You’re just really pretty as well.”

“Well thank you,” Chary said, settling next to Thryl on the bed, his hand trailing up one side, sliding beneath his tunic to reach his chest. “I find you very appealing, too. In both personality, and”—he brushed over one nipple, making Thryl gasp in a breath—”physically.” His gaze was as soft as his lips as he leaned in for another kiss: a slow slide of breath and tongue that had them both sighing. 

Reaching down, Thryl wrapped his hand around Chary’s cock, giving a light squeeze. It was thick, thicker than his own, if not quite the length, and a pleasant weight in his hand. Chary shuddered in a breath, sending a thrill of excitement shivering up Thryl’s spine. He squeezed again, sliding his hand up in one long stroke, feeling the slide of skin beneath his palm, and the hot pulse of Chary’s heartbeat below it.

“Now _this_, I know how to do,” Thryl murmured, speeding his movements just enough to hear Chary gasp again. He shuffled closer, pressing against Chary’s chest, wishing the tunic wasn’t in the way. He had too much to hide, though, and buried his face in the side of Chary’s neck, kissing a line over his throat. He would focus on the taste of Chary’s skin, soothing the scar he _had_ managed to heal, rather than dwelling on those he couldn’t.

Chary’s hand, warm and calloused, slid over Thryl’s ass once more. With a low groan, he pulled their hips together so that every stroke of Thryl’s hand brushed over his own cock.

Struggling to keep his breathing in check, Thryl scraped his teeth over Chary’s collarbone, adjusting his grip. He rocked his hips, sliding their cocks together, the faint sheen of sweat between them not enough to stop their skin from sticking.

“We should find a way to make this easier,” Chary whispered. “We’ll need something slick for the next part, too.” He arched into the circle of Thryl’s fist, a groan low in his throat. “Should I check the bathroom?”

“Give me just a second,” Thryl said, reluctantly pulling away. “I might have something.” He fished for his pack, shoving his hand into the depths and felt around for the cloth that wrapped his herbalism kit. "I was trying out some stuff with those plants from the other day and made something that might be useful." His tongue slipped out in concentration as he sifted through the various vials. "Aha! This one."

Wordlessly, he handed the vial to Chary, who held it up, peering at the clear liquid inside, a faint crease between his brows.

"Don't worry," Thryl said, "it's perfectly safe." A faint wave of embarrassment washed over him as Chary’s lip quirked up in a knowing smile. "I _may_ have used it a few nights ago." 

Chary's husky whisper sent a shiver down Thryl's spine, "What did you use it for?” he asked, though Thryl knew he already knew the answer. He pressed his lips together in what he hoped was a seductive smile.

"Would you like me to show you?” Thryl sank back down next to Chary, plucking the vial from his fingers and pouring a small puddle of the liquid into his palm. Without waiting for an answer, he took both Chary and himself in hand, smearing their cocks with slick in a single firm stroke. 

Chary's head fell back towards the pillow, a satisfied sigh leaving him as Thryl rocked against him, moving his hand in time, sliding and stroking. His fingers returned to Thryl’s hip, squeezing in encouragement. “Mm, that feels very good,” he murmured, breath catching as he arched into the touch.

“Good,” Thryl agreed, speeding the movement of his hand and squeezing his eyes shut. Chary’s breath was warm against his lips. He groaned, pressing in for a desperate kiss and overshooting, the coarse hair of Chary’s beard rough on his tongue. Chary chuckled, dipping his head to bring their lips back together, only to pull away when the next pump of Thryl’s fist had him groaning out his name.

A flutter of excitement rippled through Thryl, followed closely by a wave of sensation. He paused, squeezing at Chary’s cock and muttering against his lips, breathless, “You should probably take over soon, though. I’m not completely sure on the next part.”

Chary nodded, hand sliding over the sheets for the vial as he shifted up, his dark eyes glimmering in the low light. He gazed down at Thryl, expression unreadable, though his smile was soft. “Is this definitely how you want this?” he asked, trailing his fingers over Thryl’s balls, gently pressing back to brush the rim of his hole once more. “I happen to like it either way, if you’d rather?”

Thryl’s breath seemed to dissipate in his throat, his cock twitching at the sudden flurry of images his mind supplied, a dribble of precome pearling at the tip. He gazed up at Chary, swallowing down, trying to keep himself in check. “M-maybe the next time?” he said, his voice thick with desire. “If that’s okay?” He shifted, spreading his knees either side of Chary’s thighs and pulling him down for a soft kiss. “I _really_ liked having you on top of me before.”

Chary’s teeth gleamed as his lips curved in a wicked grin. He uncorked the vial, generously slicking his fingers before dipping down to kiss Thryl once more. “Have you ever touched yourself here before?” he murmured, voice a low rumble that made Thryl shiver. His fingertip teased a gentle circle around Thryl’s entrance. “Is that something else you’ve been doing with this concoction of yours?”

Digging his fingers into the bedsheets, Thryl groaned, his back arching from the mattress. The slick pads of Chary’s fingers brushed over his hole, pressing gently in for the briefest of seconds before pulling back to circle again. “Y-yes,” he hissed out, his forehead already beaded with sweat. “But only a little.” He reached for Chary’s hair, holding tight, desperate for anything to anchor him. “Chary, please don’t tease. I need more.” Chary huffed out a small laugh, warm against Thryl’s oversensitive skin, and pressed in again, his first finger easily slipping past the rim.

White hot desperation was coursing through Thryl’s veins. Arousal and impatience swirled inside him. “C’mon, more, please,” he whimpered. Chary’s fingers were slender, and while the initial intrusion was pleasant, it was nowhere near enough. Thryl bit his lip, trying to keep himself from cursing and begging, his desperation only growing with every gentle circle of Chary’s fingers. 

Thryl’s eyes were scrunched shut, his toes curling as Chary’s finger brushed over something inside him; a spot that sent a prickle up the base of his spine, an odd pressure that seemed to grow with every careful touch. “_Oh_,” he whispered, “keep doing that.” He felt a fluttering kiss across his brow and tilted his head up, catching Chary’s lips and twining their tongues together as he felt Chary slide another slick finger inside him. 

The pressure was growing, building at the base of Thryl’s cock and he reached down, hissing in a breath at his own touch. His cock twitched and he gritted his teeth; it was getting harder and harder to hold back the desperate rush of sensation that boiled just beneath his skin.

“Does it still feel good?” Chary murmured and Thryl groaned, nodding, rocking his hips back, trying to drive himself onto Chary’s fingers, wanting something more substantial than the faint stretch, he needed to feel fuller.

“Chary, _please_.” Thryl was panting now, the long strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, his skin prickling with electricity. He felt Chary’s fingers curl over that spot again and moaned, a spurt of precome spilling over his knuckles.

“Okay,” Chary murmured, kissing over Thryl’s sweaty forehead. He gently pulled his fingers out, making Thryl whine at the emptiness. “Just relax, we are in no rush.”

Thryl groaned, feeling Chary’s hand softly brush the mass of his hair from his face. Light kisses trailed over his skin, leaving goosepimples in their wake and Thryl shivered. He felt Chary’s arms beneath his knees, wrapping around his thighs to pull him onto his lap. The curve of his cock pressed against Thryl’s ass in a hard line, the slick liquid making it slide against his cheeks. He cracked his eyes open, stifling a moan at the sight of Chary slicking his cock, the pink point of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Glancing up, Chary’s gaze met Thryl’s own. He smiled, giving one thigh a gentle squeeze. With his other hand he guided his cock down, sliding it between Thryl’s cheeks to brush against his entrance. His eyes were locked on Thryl’s own as he gently nudged forwards, barely pressing inwards. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes!” 

Thryl’s fingers were tangled in the hem of his tunic, tightening as Chary pushed in, the blunt head of his cock so much thicker than his fingers. He could feel the stretch and a very faint burn, though the silky liquid seemed to soothe that. His chest clenched, breath coming faster, little shallow pants that had Chary squeezing at his thigh once more.

“Deep breath for me, my friend.” His fingers rubbed circles on Thryl’s leg. “Do you feel okay?”

Thryl pursed his lips together, forcing himself to draw a shaky breath, feeling Chary sink in a little further as he relaxed. “It’s...odd,” he said, “but good.” He reached up, brushing his fingers over one freckled cheek. “K-keep going, please.” 

Chary swallowed, nodding. He shifted his hands to Thryl’s hips, the rough pads of his fingers blazing points of heat on Thryl’s skin. A low sigh left his lips as he pressed in, spreading Thryl’s legs just a little wider.

With another deep breath, Thryl circled his hips, slowly adjusting to the thick pressure of Chary’s cock. He could feel it brushing against that same spot that made him squirm, the steady pressure building to a near-constant flood of sensation. Thryl lifted his hips, planting his feet on the mattress as he grabbed for Chary’s shoulders, pulling him down, matching moans leaving their lips as Chary filled him completely. Their lips crashed together in a breathless kiss, Thryl gripping any part of Chary he could reach, blunt fingernails scraping across the muscles of his shoulders. He clung tight, holding Chary as close as he was able. Thryl’s heart pounded, arousal a fraying knot of sensation inside him, nudged closer and closer to breaking point with every slight shift of Chary’s hips.

Heated breath fluttered across Thryl’s ears, making him arch his back as ripples of pleasure rolled down his spine. “Just tell me when you want me to move,” Chary whispered. 

Thryl groaned, rolling his hips. His cock was trapped between his and Chary’s stomachs, achingly hard and desperate for friction. He clenched experimentally around Chary’s cock, relishing the thickness, and felt it twitch. Chary’s breath washed up the length of his ear once more as a rough moan left his lips. He rocked into Thryl, the drag of his cock sending a jolt of sensation through every line of his body.

“Y-you can move,” Thryl panted. “I won’t last long.”

Chary’s cock twitched again at his words and Thryl arched his head back. Chary’s face was pressed to his neck, the rough hair of his beard, scraping at already oversensitive skin. He raised up on his elbows, gazing down at Thryl and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before starting to move in earnest.

Each thrust had Thryl’s toes curling. Chary drawing back almost all the way before sliding into Thryl once more, long, smooth strokes that had him crying out each time. He could feel his peak rapidly approaching, embarrassingly soon—though he knew he could trust Chary not to tease him about that part.

Belatedly, Thryl realised the rest of their party were only a few doors away and raised a hand to stifle his moans, biting down as Chary’s next thrust brought him one step closer to the brink. He could feel the unrelenting pressure at the base of his cock, though the faint friction between himself and Chary wasn’t nearly enough. He arched up, meeting Chary’s every movement, a warm flood of satisfaction bursting within him with every groan that left Chary’s lips. 

Roughened palms found Thryl’s hips, helping his movements and Chary drew back, pounding into Thryl in short, sharp strokes. His usual composure was gone completely, his eyes darkened with want, mouth wide and panting. Thryl felt his stomach flip and he moaned, delighted that he was the one who had made Chary fall apart like this. He reached down, running his thumb over the head of his cock only to find his hand brushed away.

“Let me do that,” Chary said, breathless, his movements stuttering for the barest of seconds before he was driving back into Thryl once more, his hand working Thryl’s cock at the same rough pace.

Thryl groaned, thrusting into the circle of Chary’s fist. “Fuck, Chary, I’m gonna—”

His words were lost as a sunburst of pleasure rushed through him, his cock twitching in several long spurts, messing the tunic that still covered Thryl’s chest. He gulped in a breath, tremors rippling through him as he clenched down on Chary’s cock, still hard and hot within him. His stomach quivered, breath bursting from him as Chary’s movements continued, increasingly erratic.

Thryl watched entranced as Chary tossed his sweaty hair from his eyes, muscled shoulders gleaming with sweat. His moans were growing louder and as Chary’s cock began to thicken, Thryl wrapped his legs around him, holding him close.

“Don’t pull out,” he gasped, “I want to feel it.” Chary groaned, the sound practically a growl, deep in his throat, his hips stuttering in a staccato beat as he drove into Thryl. He felt a solid pulse and a rush of warmth, once, twice, flooding inside him, filling him with heat. His lips fell open in a wordless cry as Chary shuddered, his hips working in a few more shallow thrusts before his strength seemed to give out and he slumped on top of Thryl with a shaky exhale.

Thryl smiled, the feeling of fullness second only to the weight on top of him. He stroked over Chary’s hair, pressing a kiss to the sweaty waves and sighing in contentment. Sliding his eyes closed, Thryl breathed deep, practically tasting the smell of sex that clung to the air. There was a faint ache in his hips—nothing that his magic couldn’t handle—though part of him relished the thought of having a reminder. He felt Chary’s hand slide up his side, giving a faint squeeze before he pulled out, leaving an odd hollow sensation. 

Rolling over, Chary’s gaze was fixed on Thryl’s face and he reached out, taking hold of Thryl’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Was that okay?” he said, bringing their joined hands to his lips and brushing a kiss over Thryl’s knuckles.

Rolling to face him, Thryl could feel the slick slide of Chary’s come between his cheeks and wet his lips, his spent cock giving a valiant twitch. “Yeah," he said, voice roughened, “that was...wow.” He nuzzled into the hair of Chary’s chest, a brief pang of insecurity making his stomach clench. “Was I— Did I do it right?”

Dropping his hand, Chary wrapped Thryl in a tight embrace, one hand stroking the length of his hair. “You were fantastic, my friend,” Chary murmured. “I look forward to doing this again.”

Thryl ran his fingers down Chary’s side, grinning as he tensed up. “You still want to do this again?”

Slim fingers found his wrist, holding firmly. “Of course. As long as you stop tickling me.”

Thryl stuck his lower lip out in a mock pout. “Well, okay,” he said. “I suppose I’ll try.” He settled back onto the pillows, shimmying his tunic back down and wincing at the wet stripes of his release that now covered it. “Bugger,” he said, “that was my last clean one.”

Chary stretched out, catlike, leaning up on one elbow. “We can take it to the wash-house in the morning.” He tilted his head towards his own bed. “Do you want to come lie in my bed for a while? It’ll save you doing your trance-sleep on the wet patch.” 

Thryl considered for a moment. “Yeah, all right. I need to listen to your snoring anyway, I might as well be comfortable when I do.”

Chary simply rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Thryl’s forehead and shuffling off of the bed. He grabbed his discarded robes and roughly folded them, dropping them next to his staff. “Do you think the others will be ready to head back out tomorrow? I think I can map out where we need to go next.” He slipped under his sheets, holding them up for Thryl. “Are you coming?”

“Thought that’s what I just did,” Thryl said with a smirk. He scrambled onto the narrow mattress and settled back against Chary’s chest, feeling a warm arm wrap around him. “We’ll figure out our next movements in the morning.”

“Yes we shall.” Chary settled back onto the pillows, his breathing slowly growing deeper as Thryl tried to settle his mind into restfuless. He shifted, glancing over his shoulder.

“Hey, Chary?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

Chary’s breath was a soft chuckle, his hand briefly squeezing at Thryl’s own. Around them the timbers of the inn seemed to creak, settling for the night much like its inhabitants. Thryl breathed deep, ears twitching against the silence. The restless energy that had buoyed him forward all evening was gone, leaving only a warm contentment and a welcome tiredness. The soft snuffle of Chary’s snores filled Thryl’s ears and he smiled. Finally, he too could rest.


End file.
